There is always a story in your ‘first’

There is always a story in your first, though most of my firsts however longed for, seemed to come upon me not only unexpectedly but also to feel marred by their ordinariness. I had wished I could do them over again, make them more worthy of ‘first times’. First kiss. First period. First bra. First sexual encounter. I’ve forgotten much of the specifics of them, except it seems for those elements which embarrassed me.

Rachel Kauder Nalebuff’s My Little Red Bookis a collection of first period stories from women – most of them American but a handful of them from other parts of the world including Australia, China, France, Turkey, Ghana and Kenya and spanning a broad range of ages. The author has collected a remarkable list of contributing writers, all the more admirable because she herself is only eighteen years old. Nalebuff started working on this book while she was still at high school!

Reading My Little Red Book not only brought back memories of my own but encouraged me to let go of residual awkwardness around my first period – to understand that the ordinariness and the silliness were all parts of the experience. It was special enough simply for being my first period. The achievement of books like My Little Red Book is not just that other girls somewhere have inevitably had more embarrassing menstrual experiences than you, it is that when talked about collectively they are no longer even all that embarrassing. Anthologies like these reinforce the need to celebrate and demystify the experiences of girls, especially when rituals of transition are otherwise so lacking for them. And as it should be for a book about a rite of passage a number of the stories are impressively stirring – from the black mother who explains to her daughter the dreadful significance of a girl’s first period in the era of slavery, to the sensory recollections of a woman who is blind, to the daughter who fakes her first period for the sake of her mother’s tenuous sense of accomplishment as a parent (her mother was absent for the real first period due to a stay in a psychiatric hospital).

Many of the stories are much less unusual and my own unexceptional experience at age twelve coming home from school is not out of place. Like me, everyone seems to have read Judy Blume’s 1970 novel, Are You There God, It’s Me Margaret as a teenager. Various rituals are also referred to in the book, none more fascinating than those described inShobha Sharma’s Locked in a Room with Dosai (set in India). Generally taboos from countries other than your own appear entirely alien but the confusion and shame around one’s first period seems to be sadly universal as an experience for girls. You’re just as likely to encounter blatant misogyny about periods in Australia as you are in Kenya or Canada.

Not all the stories are literary pieces, but each of them is charming. And they’re short. These stories can be read a couple at a time if you’re so inclined, but they’re also absorbing enough to be read all in one sitting. Ink Blots and Milk Spots by Krista Madsen was a favourite of mine, Memory: Day 1 by Abegunde is beautifully spare and Bernadette Murphy’s My Second First Period is quite brilliant. The Simple Vase series written by a mother and daughter about the daughter’s first period is also a memorable stand out, particularly as I hope one day to create a celebration of my daughter’s first period when the time comes. To give my daughter, without too much intrusion, the specialness mine lacked. In The Simple Vase series a mother describes her desire to make her daughter’s first period a celebration, only to have to quickly revise her ideas in the face of an even stronger desire from her daughter for privacy. The now adult daughter responds to her mother’s piece with her own recollections of that time, and in the end it appears her mother achieved exactly what she had set out to do – to give her daughter a sense of pride in her coming maturity. Likewise, Simple As Salt was both nicely written and also valuable for ideas for mothers and their daughters.

Reading the stories I eventually found myself grouping them into categories according to who girls chose to, or were forced to share their first period with – their mothers (most often), their fathers, their grandparents, teachers, sisters and surprisingly infrequently their best friends.. and still some chose to go it completely alone. Who told them how to use a pad or a tampon and how specific were they in their instructions? Delightfully, some mothers or big sisters sat outside bathroom doors and coached them calmly through their first experience. The saddest stories were those girls who were completely unprepared for the event, those who assumed they were dying or had done some terrible injury to themselves. But some experiences of first periods were joyful and it was these girls’ memories and their families’ roles in that outcome that I read with particular keenness as a mother.

You can read more here if you’re interested as the author has a website for the book. My Little Red Book is now available from Amazon and royalties from the book are being donated to charities promoting women’s health and education. But…the publisher, Hachette Book Group also has five copies of this book to give away to blue milk readers residing in the US or Canada. (I know, what about Australia?) Be the first five to leave a comment below and I’ll contact you to arrange your prize. The publisher has also requested no PO Boxes for postal addresses. Picky, picky.

35 Responses

Oh gosh, I remember my first time. I was so proud and wrote lengthy entries in my diary about how I was a woman now. And then it turns out I had no idea about sanitary pads when I tried to flush them down the toilet…

Funny…I remember being hugely disappointed and embarrassed! It’s funny that everyone seems to be so happy to have reached the milestone of the first period when to me it was my own big tragedy. I guess I didn’t want to grow up at the time…

I remember it being a holiday weekend. I was 12. My mom had gone to bed already and my dad was still up. I remember stuffing toilet paper in my pants until I could talk with her and being so grateful that school was closed the next day so I could get myself adjusted. I remember being terrified of my dad knowing. But I remember being relieved too – that it had finally happened as wasn’t so bad as I anticipated.

I remember as a teenager being major pissed when I heard people refer to it as “the curse.” My dad would say that. I still hate that to this day. I look at menstruation as a wonderful part of womanhood. I went through a real dark period in college where I smeared and made a few pieces of “art” with my blood and put them in my journal. I was ashamed when in reality I was trying to celebrate it. I haven’t ever told anyone that before.

A friend was just telling me about this book and I meant to go look it up but promptly forgot. Thanks much for the review. Like you many of my firsts, including my first period, seemed mundane. My mother prepared me well. I was the youngest of four girls. No one was all that excited when it happened.

Sounds fabulous! If there is a free copy left, I’d be delighted to get one–I live in Chicago right now, so I happen to be within their somewhat arbitrary geographical range. 🙂

Interestingly, though I do remember being excited/interested, and I do remember my mom talking to me about it (she got me pads and had me practice wearing them around so that when it did come it wouldn’t feel weird), I do not remember my first period at all. I don’t know where I was, what grade I was in, how I felt, who was first to get it (I remember that was a big deal, but now I have no idea whether I was first or last or somewhere in the middle). Crazy. I guess I was so prepared that it ceased to seem very interesting?

That sounds like an excellent book. I will definitely get myself a copy of it. In out family there was a bit of a habit of talking around kids, rather than to them. I mean this in a positive way – it meant awkward conversations could happen without the child’s active participation. Those combined with the ever trusty Dolly magazine were my preparation. I didn’t tell anyone, I just went to the cupboard, got out the tampons (I never knew about the “start off with pads” thing), read the instructions and got on with it.

The traumatic experiences were the first period at my grandfather’s, and even worse, first period with my great aunt. She was going to look for plastic pants and a belt….

But I do need to get over the embarrassment. This book should help. And if it doesn’t, if I leave it lying around for the girl child to find, I might at least be able to avoid passing it on. 🙂

I got my first period at my Dad’s house (I used to live one week at each house, swapping every Sunday). I remember thinking “Oh drat. Why now?” and having to pull myself together to go and tell him – I didn’t want him to think that I didn’t trust him.

Poor Dad – he tried so hard! He was all: “Your a woman now! Well done…” and then trotted up the shops to buy me a pack of the most massive pads that I have ever seen!

I was quite relieved when I got to Mum’s place the following Sunday and could get some smaller panty liners and a bit of advice. Her and her girlfriend were all proud, sympathetic and respectful of my desire for privacy. They just said, “Welcome to the club” and gave me chocolate.

But then not long afterwards Dad got it into his head that he should take me shopping for my first bra…

I intellectually knew about periods, but I was only ten and horrified that it had happened so soon. I was already angry about having breasts – a period as well just seemed creepy and awful. When I’d started developing breasts, my mother had gone out and bought a heap of nice knickers, some panty lines and training bras, and packaged them up for me. I screamed when I found them and threw them (one by one) across the kitchen at her. I couldn’t stand the thought of being a woman, or being grown up. I knew the biological stuff behind it and I hated the idea that I was now maturing and becoming fertile. It just seemed awful.

It took a long long time to come to terms with it. I’m generally okay now, but at the moment I’m fighting back tears and trying to remember if I ever apologised to my mother.

I was the last in my group of friends. I remember when the girl who turned out to be the second last announced that hers had started in the school holidays and I was kinda disappointed that I was last, I was so relieved when it finally started a week before my fifteenth birthday, Yay I was normal! Mum had me well prepared and all my friends had kinda told me not to worry so it wasn’t too awkward, but I was always sooo paranoid about the potential of embarrassment at school.

I am pleased to have been a late starter, it seems to me to have been more mortifying for the early girls. I’m quietly hoping that my girl (currently 5) is also a late bloomer. Thanks for sharing this book Bluemilk, I think it sounds like a great addition to the bookcase for when the time comes. Whenever that turns out to be.

I honestly can’t remember anything about my first period. I guess it was just totally unremarkable. I do remember a number of subsequent much less dull periods (note to self: impress on daughter the value of carrying supplies at all times).

Said daughter is 10 and despite her being very small for her age and showing no sign of any developments I have bought appropriate supplies for her and she knows where they are kept and how they are used (I figure even if she doesn’t need them yet I should have stuff on hand for her friends when they come to play – just in case.)

Thank you. I stumbled upon this entry doing a routine search today. I’m buying this book for my daughter, who had a horrible first period event happen to her. She was at her father’s house, with whom she was not getting a long. I was at school (I was in University at the time) and unaware that she did not go to school because she got her period that morning and they where waiting for me to come get her. I didn’t get there until nearly 3:00 pm. The next weekend, her dad told her that they didn’t need to hang out anymore and that they could get a “divorce” if she wanted to. She hasn’t seen him since. I worry so much that she has been scarred by the experience. I think this book and more conversation (we’ve had a few) will help. Thanks again.

I would’ve loved to have this book to read as a teenager, although would have also found it deeply embarassing if presented with something like this from my mother – I remember being very interested in any mention of periods in teen books! Anyway, obviously I’m not saying it’s a teen book but probably would also be appreciated by young teens.

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